Then two years more went by, or perhaps three, for time passes imperceptibly in Tahiti, and it is hard to keep count of it;but at last a message was brought to Dr. Coutras that Strickland was dying.Ata had waylaid the cart that took the mail into Papeete, and besought the man who drove it to go at once to the doctor.But the doctor was out when the summons came, and it was evening when he received it.It was impossible to start at so late an hour, and so it was not till next day soon after dawn that he set out.He arrived at Taravao, and for the last time tramped the seven kilometres that led to Ata's house.The path was overgrown, and it was clear that for years now it had remained all but untrodden.It was not easy to fnd the way.Sometimes he had to stumble along the bed of the stream, and sometimes he had to push through shrubs, dense and thorny;often he was obliged to climb over rocks in order to avoid the hornet-nests that hung on the trees over his head.The silence was intense.
It was with a sigh of relief that at last he came upon the little unpainted house, extraordinarily bedraggled now, and unkempt;but here too was the same intolerable silence. He walked up, and a little boy, playing unconcernedly in the sunshine, started at his approach and fed quickly away:to him the stranger was the enemy.Dr.Coutras had a sense that the child was stealthily watching him from behind a tree.The door was wide open.He called out, but no one answered.He stepped in.He knocked at a door, but again there was no answer.He turned the handle and entered.The stench that assailed him turned him horribly sick.He put his handkerchief to his nose and forced himself to go in.The light was dim, and after the brilliant sunshine for a while he could see nothing.Then he gave a start.He could not make out where he was.He seemed on a sudden to have entered a magic world.He had a vague impression of a great primeval forest and of naked people walking beneath the trees.Then he saw that there were paintings on the walls.
“Mon Dieu, I hope the sun hasn't affected me,”he muttered.
A slight movement attracted his attention, and he saw that Ata was lying on the foor, sobbing quietly.
“Ata,”he called.“Ata.”
She took no notice. Again the beastly stench almost made him faint, and he lit a cheroot.His eyes grew accustomed to the darkness, and now he was seized by an overwhelming sensation as he stared at the painted walls.He knew nothing of pictures, but there was something about these that extraordinarily affected him.From foor to ceiling the walls were covered with a strange and elaborate composition.It was indescribably wonderful and mysterious.It took his breath away.It flled him with an emotion which he could not understand or analyse.He felt the awe and the delight which a man might feel who watched the beginning of a world.It was tremendous, sensual, passionate;and yet there was something horrible there too, something which made him afraid.It was the work of a man who had delved into the hidden depths of nature and had discovered secrets which were beautiful and fearful too.It was the work of a man who knew things which it is unholy for men to know.There was something primeval there and terrible.It was not human.It brought to his mind vague recollections of black magic.It was beautiful and obscene.
“Mon Dieu, this is genius.”
The words were wrung from him, and he did not know he had spoken.
Then his eyes fell on the bed of mats in the corner, and he went up, and he saw the dreadful, mutilated, ghastly object which had been Strickland. He was dead.Dr.Coutras made an effort of will and bent over that battered horror.Then he started violently, and terror blazed in his heart, for he felt that someone was behind him.It was Ata.He had not heard her get up.She was standing at his elbow, looking at what he looked at.
“Good Heavens, my nerves are all distraught,”he said.“You nearly frightened me out of my wits.”
He looked again at the poor dead thing that had been man, and then he started back in dismay.
“But he was blind.”
“Yes;he had been blind for nearly a year.”
兩年多的時間過去了,或者是三年,在塔希提島時間不知不覺就過去了,要把時間算得準確是件困難的事。但是庫特拉斯醫(yī)生最終得到一個別人捎來的信息:斯特里克蘭快要死了。愛塔在路上攔了一輛往帕皮提送郵件的馬車,請求趕車的人立即去趟醫(yī)生那兒,告訴他這個消息。但是當(dāng)消息送達的時候,醫(yī)生出門了。直到晚上,他才收到這個消息。因為太晚了,已經(jīng)不可能啟程出發(fā),所以等到第二天天剛破曉,醫(yī)生才動身。他先趕到塔拉瓦奧,然后最后一次徒步走七公里,踏上通往愛塔家的小路。路兩邊的野草瘋長,把小路都快遮住了,很明顯有不少年頭這條小徑都沒人走過,找到路都不太容易了。有時,他不得不沿著小溪的岸邊深一腳淺一腳地走;有時,他又不得不撥開茂密、長滿荊棘的灌木叢艱難前行。好幾次他不得不爬過巖石,為了躲開懸掛在他頭頂樹上的馬蜂窩。周圍萬籟俱寂。
最后,他到了原木原色建成的小屋前,才如釋重負地嘆了口氣。小屋現(xiàn)在顯得更加的破舊,而且還臟兮兮的;但是這兒也有著相同的、讓人無法忍受的沉寂。他向露臺走去,看到一個小男孩在陽光底下無憂無慮地玩耍著,一看見他走近便飛快地跑掉了,對這個孩子來說,陌生人就像敵人一樣。庫特拉斯醫(yī)生有著某種感覺,這個孩子正在一棵大樹后面打量他。屋門大開著。他喊了一聲,但沒人應(yīng)答。他走上前,又在門上敲了幾下,還是沒人應(yīng)聲。他轉(zhuǎn)動門把手,徑直走了進去。一陣惡臭撲面而來,讓他快吐了出來。他把手絹捂到鼻子上,硬著頭皮繼續(xù)往前走去。屋里的光線很暗,剛從陽光燦爛的地方進來,有那么一會兒,他什么也看不見。當(dāng)他的眼睛慢慢適應(yīng)了屋里的光線的時候,他嚇了一跳。他都有點搞不清楚身在何處了,好像突然進入了一個魔幻世界,恍惚間他好像看到了一大片原始森林,還有赤身露體的人們在樹下行走。隨后,他看出來了,這些原來都是在墻上畫的畫。
“我的上帝[118],但愿太陽沒把我曬昏?!彼÷暪緡伒?。
有人稍微動了一下,吸引了他的注意力,他看見愛塔正躺在地板上,無聲地抽泣著。
“愛塔,”他叫道,“愛塔。”
她沒搭理,惡臭再一次差點把他熏暈過去,他趕忙點上了一支方頭雪茄。這時,眼睛慢慢適應(yīng)了黑暗,而當(dāng)他盯著滿是繪畫的墻壁時,心中的情感像潮水般洶涌而來,雖然他完全不懂繪畫,但是這些畫中有某種與眾不同的東西深深地感染著他。從地板到屋頂,所有墻壁上都畫滿了奇怪的、精心構(gòu)思的畫作,這些畫有著用語言無法描述的壯觀與神秘。庫特拉斯醫(yī)生覺得呼吸急促,喘不上氣,內(nèi)心充滿他無法理解或者無從分析的感情,他感覺到敬畏和欣喜,就像一個人在混沌初開睜眼看世界的感覺。那畫的氣勢磅礴,充滿肉欲,又激情無限;然而,它又含著某種令人恐懼的東西,讓人心驚肉跳。它是一個人的杰作,這個人已經(jīng)鉆研到大自然最隱秘的深處,洞悉了大自然既美麗又讓人恐懼的秘密;它是一個人的杰作,這個人知道了一般人所不了解的邪惡的東西。畫里還透著原始和可怕的東西,是不屬于這個塵世凡間的。他的腦海中浮現(xiàn)出了模模糊糊的黑色魔法世界,既是美麗的,也是下流的。
“我的上帝[119],這是天才呀。”
這句話道出了實情,但當(dāng)時他自己都不知道自己說了什么。
隨后,他的目光落到角落中墊子鋪就的床上,他走了過去,看到了一個可怕的、殘缺不全的、陰森的東西,那正是斯特里克蘭。他已經(jīng)死了。庫特拉斯醫(yī)生用了極大的意志力,俯身去觀察這具死去多時、令人恐懼的尸體。突然他被嚇得毛骨悚然,恐懼攫住了心臟,因為他分明感覺到身后有人。那人是愛塔,他根本沒聽見她走過來,她就站在他旁邊,正在看他所觀察的尸體。
“我的老天爺,我差點嚇瘋了?!彼f道,“你快把我嚇得魂飛魄散了?!?/p>
他又看了看那具尸體,這個曾經(jīng)屬于一個可憐男人的肉身,隨后,他在驚愕中后退了幾步。
“可是他已經(jīng)眼瞎了呀?!?/p>
“是的,他眼睛瞎了快一年了?!?/p>
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